


Turn Back The Tide

by vanishing_time



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Deacury, Family Feels, M/M, Memories, Past, RPF, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 09:03:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17659778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanishing_time/pseuds/vanishing_time
Summary: You can't turn back the clock, you can't turn back the tide, ain't that a shame?I'd like to go back one time on a roller coaster ride when life was just a gameIt's John's birthday, and it makes him think about past things.





	Turn Back The Tide

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Last One To Know](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17159771) by [OnTheRoadSoFar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnTheRoadSoFar/pseuds/OnTheRoadSoFar). 



> This fic wasn't inspired by These Are the Days of Our Lives, but boy, it sure fits.  
> This is my version of this memory trope. Totally fiction, never happened.

It’s his birthday today.

He’s sitting on the river shore, leant against a willow tree as the wind is caressing his hair, sunlight kissing his face, and the rippling of the water is so calm, so gentle.

He’s turned forty-five.

His family was all over him all day, and though his heart bursts with love for them, he needed to find an excuse to escape from the ado for a little bit.

He wind ruffles his thinning, grey hair like it was intentionally mocking him. White-hot sunlight on his face, deepening his wrinkles, painting the insides of his eyelids orange.

It’s a beautiful day, but he’s lost in thoughts, hardly noticing the scent of soil and fresh air, the scent of water. He can barely hear the birds.

A perfect day.

_Today, I’ve turned your age._

He hears voices in the distance somewhere behind him, voices of children playing and screaming. Voices from a different life.

 

Something cold touched a finger on his right hand.

“You can open your eyes now.”

He obeyed, and for a solid minute, his breath was taken away.

Freddie’s hand was warm as he gently caressed John’s palm and wrist with feather light touches.  So warm, so young.

“Tell me, do you like it, Deacy?“

He couldn’t form a word.

On his hand, on his middle finger a golden ring sat with a huge black onyx in the middle, shining in the warmth of the decor light of the room, his hand framed by another one, gently squeezing his now.

“Dear?”

He could only nod enthusiastically in reply, finally tearing his vision from the jewel, looking into a pair of different kind of onyx, deep, deep like the universe, telling tales, exotic and mesmerizing.

Freddie smiled at him, an insecure, shy smile turning more confident, and held his hand more firmly. He dared to reveal his teeth in front of him, and John felt little pangs of happiness.

“It’s so pretty,” he managed to choke out, and Freddie laughed. “Did you really get this for _me_?”

“For you, my sweetheart. You deserve it and it suits you and your masculine energy,” Fred winked. “I hope it shows what you mean to me.” He smoothed a lock of John’s hair behind his ear, his fingertips writing promises on his cheek. “If you accept it from me.”

 

He touches his lips where the ghost of a kiss is lingering, more than a quarter of a century away.

 

Golden-red warm lights, a pile of flashy clothing on the bed, a room that’s too small but so cozy still.

Fingers were tangled in his hair, his mouth felt swollen and raw with the endless stream of hungry kisses, his ears tingling with an infinite flow of words of fondness.

“My Deacy. My lovely.”

Teasing, gentle clawing between his shoulder blades, along his spine. Long legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer, closer. Not close ever enough. Young, olive skin and unbelievable pleasure.

“My Deacy, my sweetheart.”

Sighs turned loud and desperate, lips were nipping at his earlobes, damp panting puffing on his face and neck that made him lose his mind. Taste of salty skin. A cry of love, a moan of endearment.

“Oh, _Belisha_ -”

He chuckled, his heart full of _him,_  and Freddie also chuckled, their laughter blending into groans of delight.

“John, love...”

Lips were touching his cheeks, thumbs running over his lips, mouth on mouth, open and inviting, eyelashes tickling his chin in a moment of exploding heat.

Slowing breath, John's face pressed against a heaving chest, his hands clutching at a shoulder like his life had depended on it.

All the time still ahead.

“We're going to do amazing things together...”

 

In another time, in another dimension.

“I wish I could give you children. Wouldn’t it be fun, have a family together?”

In a parallel universe.

_Maybe… we could have raised kids together._

 

Another time.

“I… asked her to marry me.”

He didn’t dare look into those eyes, expecting disappointment, anger. His hands were sweating and shaking and his heart was beating in his throat.

He certainly wasn’t expecting a gentle touch on his shoulder, turning him over slowly, a hand lifting his chin up until he was forced to lift his glare from the ground.

“Deacy. Dear.”

A thumb was caressing his lower lip, and he found himself looking into glistening onyx eyes once again, and into a sad, sad smile.

“If you’re happy-”

He felt his heart shatter to million pieces.

“-I’ll be happy. I promise.”

A last kiss, tasting salty and bitter like seawater, and Freddie’s arms around him were strong as he swallowed John’s sobs.

 

_Today, we're the same age. And the time will come when I'll be older than you, maybe old enough to be your father, and you will be forever young, remembered by your voice and flamboyance and spirit and music._

_And I’ll always-_

 

He hears different voices now, calling for him, coming closer and closer. His two youngest sons suddenly draped over him, laughing, his eldest arriving a bit behind.

He would never give them up for anything. He’d never go back and do it anyway else.

He wouldn’t...

_“Just be happy, darling.”_

He closes his eyes for a second, blinking away tears that he won’t let fall, a smile spreading on his face as his kids are hugging him, his arms around them.

“Dad, dad, are you coming home now with us? We have a surprise for you.”


End file.
